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there were some other very fine specimens of the master which, from distance or other circumstances, they had not been able to obtain. They were exhibited in honour of the memory of Sir Joshua, and for the improvement of British art.

In the following year a fine collection of the works of Hogarth, Richard Wilson, Gainsborough, and Zoffani, was exhibited at the Institution. The Rake's Progress in eight pictures, Marriage-à-la-mode in six, and several others by Hogarth. There were seventy-three portraits and landscapes by Gainsborough, and eighty-seven pictures by Wilson.

An exhibition, formed exclusively from the works of Sir Thomas Lawrence, was opened in 1830, soon after his lamented decease.

G. W. N.

EASTERN PENITENTIARY,

PHILADELPHIA.

THE Eastern Penitentiary, which is situated about two miles from the city of Philadelphia, stands upon an elevated site, and occupies an area of ten acres, which are enclosed by a quadrangular wall, thirty feet in height, at each angle of which there is a tower, erected originally to overlook the establishment; but, although they are not at present used, they add greatly to the beauty of the structure. The front is six hundred and seventy feet in length, and rests on an elevated basement, or terrace; the principal building in which is two hundred feet in length, with two projecting towers, fifty feet in height, that are connected by a curtain, surmounted by parapets, which is supported by pointed arches, and finished with embrasures. The entrance is an enormous gateway, at the top of which is a portcullis of massive grated bars of iron. The door is twenty-seven feet high, fifteen feet wide, and studded with large rivets: the entrance is surmounted by an octagonal tower eighty feet in height. On each side of the principal building are wing walls, which appear to be portions of the main edifice, being pierced with blank windows, narrow, and pointed at the top; the top of the walls are likewise finished in a castellated manner.-On entering through the gate there is a paved way for carriages, three hundred feet wide, with a trottoir on each side that leads to the centre building, forty feet in diameter, which is situated in the middle of the area, and is the converging point for each radius of cells: from the centre point of this building may be seen the whole range of the building appropriated for the prisoners.-Under the centre building is a place that was formerly used as a reservoir for supplying the establishment with water; but the ground-floor being of nearly an equal height with Fair Mount, from

whence the water was derived, it was abandoned, and is at present applied to the purpose of warming the prison.-The cells of the three radii on the eastern side, containing a hundred each, are one story high, eleven feet nine inches long, and seven feet six inches wide; and have a yard attached, eighteen feet long and eight feet wide, surrounded by a wall twelve feet high: the other four radii are of an improved construction, being two stories in height, and about three feet larger. The partition-walls between the cells are eighteen inches thick. The walls next to the corridor, or passage, are of the same thickness, and the external walls are two feet three inches. The entrance to the cells, in the three ranges first erected, is through the yard; but this being found inconvenient, the entrance to the four blocks last built is through a double door, one of which is of grated iron and the other of wood, and are of the thickness of the wall from each other, and open into the corridor. The establish ment is warmed by means of hot water circulating through small pipes, which extend to the different parts of the building.

THE BAROMETER.

W. G. C.

We cannot reach the higher regions of the atmosphere, but the barometer, in some respects, tells us what goes on to the very top ; for it is like having in a balance a column of air the whole height of the atmosphere. As to currents in the atmosphere, we can judge of their direction only as high as the clouds reach. A low state of the barometer por tends a storm or an earthquake. Before the great earthquake at Lisbon, the barometer sunk nearly an inch below the mean height. When the barometer is very low, the tides are unusually high. If the barometer fall during a frost, a thaw generally comes on; and if during a great heat in summer, we may expect a thunder-storm. In every well-regulated ship, there is a thermometer; and it has saved many a vessel. In the tropics, at a distance from land, a fall of one-eighth of an inch indicates a change of weather. Dr. Arnott relates an interesting case on this subject. The barometer on board a ship fell at a time when there was no other sign of a storm; and had it not been for the little tube of mercury, not one person on board the vessel would have survived to tell the tale.

A rise of the barometer generally announces fair weather. If the latter take place immediately, it is probable it will not continue long. The theory of the barometer is very far from being well understood. Some say its hourly changes are owing to the influence of the sun on the atmosphere; but these changes take place during the whole twenty-four hours. It has been observed that, in many countries,

great quantities of carbonic acid are given out
from chasms in the earth. At one place, more
than six hundred thousand gallons are given
out in the course of the day. These variable
quantities of carbonic acid (which is a very
heavy gas) must cause the weight of the at-
mosphere to vary at different times. In order
to get the mean height of the barometer for
a day, take the height at nine o'clock in the
morning, and at three in the afternoon; add
the heights together; and divide by two. If
not particular, you need take it only once a
day,-at noon.
N. R.

The Gatherer.

WHEN the body of Major André was taken up, a few years since, from its place of interment near the Hudson, for the purpose of being removed to England, it was found that the skull was closely encircled by a net-work, formed by the roots of a small tree, which had been planted near his head. H. M.. The Times journal says,-There is a great deal of poetry in the butter trade, as we learn from a Providence grocer, who advertises a lot" of a prepossessing colour, and sweet as morning roses newly washed with dew.”

Best Age for Mutton.-The sheep is in its best condition, as food, when about five years old; an age which it is almost never allowed to attain unless when intended for the private use of the owner, and not for market. It is then sapid, full-flavoured, and firm, without being tough; and the fat has become hard. At three years old, as commonly procured from the butcher, it is well tasted, but is by no means comparable to that of five years. If younger than three years, it is deficient in flavour, and its flesh is pale. Meat which is half mutton and half lamb is very unpalatable food. M. Ude says, "Always choose mutton of a dark colour and marble-like appearance." Women.-Women, with their bright imaginations, tender hearts, and pure minds, create for themselves idols, on whom they lavish their worship, making their hearts temples, in which the false god is adored. But, alas! the object of their best and fondest feelings generally too soon prove to be of base clay, instead of pure gold; and though pity would fain intervene, to vail its defects, or even to cherish it in despite of them, virtue, reason, and justice, combine finally to destroy it; but in the dead, too often injure the fame in which it was enshrined.-Lady Blessington.

Judge's Salary.-In 1466, the salary of Thos. Littleton, judge of the King's Bench, amounted to 1387. 13s. 4d. modern money, be sides about 177. 78. for his fur gown, robes, &c. Fraternal Liberality.—An orator at a recent political meeting, is said to have thundered forth this "noble sentiment:"-" Mr. Chair man, if I was a Siamese twin, and my brother

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Zoological Gardens.-The gardens of the Zoological Society in the Regent's Park have sustained another loss, in the fine female ouran, which has been in their possession upwards of eighteen months, and died on Wednesday morning, June 8, 1839.

Magnanimity-Of all virtues, magnanimity is the rarest. There are a hundred persons for one who willingly acknowledges it in another. When a man misses anything, his first idea is that somebody has stolen it; though he ascertains, ninety-nine times in a hundred, that the loss is from his own carelessness.

Money is so scarce in New Orleans that when two dollars meet, their owners are obliged to introduce them to each other, they are such strangers.-New York Paper.

Chudleigh.-A curious discovery of a range of caverns was made last week, in Chudleigh Rock, in consequence of a terrier dog getting into a fissure in pursuit of a rab bit. The dog was heard at various times to bark for more than a week, and as it was almost impossible to extricate him, it was attempted to destroy him by burning brimstone. On the 15th day after the dog's entombment, his moans were plainly heard by many persons, when a further endeavour was made in vain to extricate him. A lad, on the following day had the courage, with a rope affixed to him, and two lanterns, to enter the chasms, and, after two hours, work, ing a passage of 20 feet, he descended into a dry chamber about 30 feet square, and 63 feet below the opening, where he found the dog dead, but still warm. From an aperture in this cavern gushed a stream of air leading into another cavern, which is supposed to be still deeper, as the boy had not rope enough to descend. This range of caverns is beneath those where Professor Buckland many years since discovered some extraordinary antedeluvian remains.-Exeter Gazette.

SOUND versus SENSE: (For the Mirror.) (Written beneath a portrait of Pope Pius VI.) All popes should pious be-this pope is said To have been pius both alive and dead: But, had he pious been, we could not hope, Though pius living, he'd die pious pope!

B. C.:

LONDON: Printed and published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House); and sold by all Booksellers and Newsmen.-In PARIS, by all the Booksellers. In FRANCFORT, CHARLES JUGEL

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SOUTH METROPOLITAN CEMETERY, NORWOOD, SURREY.

THE circumstance of the public attention having of late years been painfully excited by the disclosures which have been made in reference to the disgraceful state of the burialgrounds of the metropolis and its vicinity, gave rise to the establishment of the above cemetery by the projectors, whose objects were to correct the evil.

In carrying out these designs, their principal aim has been to put within the reach of the entire metropolitan and suburban popu lation, the power of availing themselves of the proposed benefit; and to the accomplishment of this, they have felt that two important objects were to be obtained, viz., to afford the public space within an easy distance of town, yet removed from a crowded population, sufficient to meet their wants; and, secondly, a reasonable rate of charge--both these objects the projectors may confidently say they have effected.

As regards the space, the cemetery occupies an area of 40 acres, and the act of Incorporation authorizes the proprietors to extend it to 40 additional acres, if occasion should require. In selecting the present site the company have been singularly fortunate; and it may be safely stated, that no spot within so short a distance from the metropolis could be fixed upon in every way so well adapted for the purpose.

In reference to the scale of charges, it will be found on comparison with the generality of the charges for interment in existing burialgrounds, to be upon a reduced scale, and particularly it should be observed, that the exor bitant charges usually termed non parochial dues will be altogether avoided.

While, however, utility, and the necessary requisites of an undertaking of this description, have chiefly occupied the attention of the proprietors, they have not exclusively done so; from the commencement of the works to their completion, no expense has been spared in rendering this cemetery attractive as a work of art; and it is gratifying to the projectors to learn, that the attention of the public has already been arrested by the skill and taste displayed by the artist in the general arrangement of the grounds, and the chaste and beautiful character of the architecture of the chapels and buildings.

The easy distance of this cemetery from the metropolis and its suburbs, renders it acceptable to all their inhabitants. The nature of the soil is such, that graves have been dug to the depth of twenty-five feet without the appearance of moisture.

A portion of the ground has been consecrated by the Bishop of the Diocese for the use of the members of the Established Church, and an Episcopalian chaplain appointed ;another part has been allotted for persons

dissenting from the Establishment, and a dissenting minister has been appointed to offihave their own clergyman or minister. ciate on their behalf-parties may, however,

We cannot close these remarks without

making the gratifying observation, that the secrated from the unconsecrated portions of boundary-line, which distinguishes the conthe cemetery, is merely a pathway; thus, every invidious distinction has been avoided, while the religious feelings of all have been consulted.

THE SUN.

POETRY WRITTEN AND MELODY COMPOSED BY ANDREW PARK.

(For the Mirror.)

A GLORIOUS orb is the suu!
Bright as when first from chaos sprung,
Wheu all the new-born planets sung,

Who shall describe his flame?

And gloom hid his head in shame!
His throne the empyrean sky;—
His robes the red clouds furl'd,
The quenchless light of his eye

Is the soul of each mystic world.
A glorious orb is the sun!-A glorious orb is the sun!
Lo! in the crimson west

A molten sea lies there,
Purpling deep the vapoury breast
Of the travelli'd clouds that calmly rest
On the wings of the dreaming air!
Far in the East away-

Worlds their lamps may trim;
What were their gloom if they

Received not their light from? A glorious orb is the sun -A glorious orb is the suu! O with his rays to rise!

In his chariot through the star-deck skies,

One dazzling day for me,

Where world after world flies,

In endless regious free! Away to lands unknown,

And sin hath never sown

Where mortal ne er hath been,

Those seeds which grow so green! A glorious orb is the sun!-A glorious orb is the sun!

LOVE'S VISIONS. (For the Mirror.)

How often do I, weary of the din and noise Of this great city and its empty joys, Sigh for some sequestered quiet vale, Where peace abounds, and pleasures never fail. But not alone would I retired dwell, Like some stern anchorite, in gloomy cell, But thou should be my temple-vision'd shrine ! For, without thee, no happiness is mine. Oft times, wheu musing, do I seem to hear The melody of birds, as if 'twere near; And while they tuneful sing, methinks 1 rove, With thee, through shelter'd wood. or fairy grove: Aud the bright sun glitters through many a bough With soften'd beams, and gentle zephyrs blow, To waft the precious perfume of the flower That blooms in many a hedge and cottage-bower. Or, perhaps, I faney, o'er the verdant mead, With hearts elate, with joy our way we speed, Sweeping the dew from thence, and only pause New wonders to admire, and praise the Cause, The great Creator, who hath blessed the earth With all those beauties that attest its birth. And when tis eve,--we wander forth again, But not to tread the gay enamell'd plain: Ah, no!-but in our fairy bark, to glide O'er some smooth river, wafted by the tide,

While silver moonbeams on the waters play,
And through the bending willows pierce their way.
Then, to complete the charm, upon the wind
Sweet music steals, which seems of heav'nly kind.
But, lo! the dream is o'er, the spell is broke,
And London's noisy cries, and London's smoke,
Dispel the illusion, roughly does destroy
My ideal happiness, my fancied joy;
And all my pleasant visions take to flight,
No more imagination can delight.

And I, perchance, must join some giddy throng,
And, with the multitude, impelled along,
May seem to those who know me not, to love
Those heartless follies which I feel above.
But e'en in scenes like these I'd always be
Than forced to part or separate from thee;
And grove, and bower, lake, and rural shade,
For thee adjure, if by thy love repaid.
Westminster.

M. S.

ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. SAUSSURE, the celebrated philosopher, reached the top of this mountain; and others went up soon afterwards. They tied themselves together with ropes; so that if any should happen to fall into a chasm, they might be saved. Some of these chasms were so deep, that when ice was thrown into them, the sound produced by its reaching the bottom was not heard. One chasm was found so wide, that the ladder which they laid across it, reached only one inch over each side; and that only in one place. They learned that this chasm had opened only a few days; so that if they passed over, there was a dan ger of their not being able to get back, from its opening wider before their return. They ventured over, however, and got safely back. Their thirst was very great. When near the top, they became very weak, felt dispirited, and were troubled with vomiting, &c.; owing to the air being very thin (the rarity of the atmosphere, as it is called). At last they reached the summit. In 1827, Mr. Ferrars, an English gentleman, ascended to the top. He also experienced great effects from the rarity of the air. His guides had bleeding from the nose, great difficulty of breathing, and intense thirst. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their faces blistered. Some had vomiting of blood. Mr. Auldjo likewise reached the top; and gives an interesting account of his journey. One of his guides sunk up to his arm-pits in a chasm; but saved himself by stretching out his arms, and by his pole falling across the chasm like a bridge. As they got towards the highest point, they were obliged to rest every three or four steps, and to turn their faces towards the north-wind; which assisted respiration. Mr. Auldjo was partly dragged, and partly carried to the summit. The sun was shining brightly on the snow-topped peaks around; but it was very cold; and he soon fell asleep. He had with him a bottle of champagne; of which the cork flew out to a great distance, but with little noise. We have mentioned elsewhere*

See No. 947 of the Mirror; May 4, 1839; page 275 of the present volume.

that, owing to the rarity of the atmosphere, a pistol fired there makes no more noise than a cracker in a room ;-noise being occasioned by percussions of the air. The champague frothed to the last drop; and our traveller partook of it; but the fixed air (carbonic acid) being given out very abundantly after being drunk, gave him much uneasiness. There have been about fifteen successful ascents of this mountain; and about twenty persous (of whom about twelve were English). besides guides, have reached the top. Among the successful travellers was a female. One of the latest to ascend, was Dr. Martin Barry, a highly intelligent and accomplished member of the Society of Friends; whom we had the pleasure of knowing in Edinburgh. He gave a very interesting account of his journey, in two lectures, illustrated by drawings; and also in a little work on the subject. Napoleon caused the guides to fix a cross on the top; but it was blown down in a day or two. N. R.

WOMAN'S LOVE.

POOR Joanna La Loca, Crazy Jane, the heiress of Isabella, was born to vast domiHer cloying ions and slender intellect. fondness for her handsome husband defeated itself; Philip had married for her kingdoms, not her personal charms, and (like her niece, our Mary) she was by nature melancholy and ungracious. He became wearied, neglectful, and, by insensible degrees, unfeeling: his undisguised infidelities alienated her affec brance of her former love. She shed no tear tions, without destroying the abstract rememat his untimely death; but sank into a moody imbecility. Soothed by music alone, all her occupations were merged in watching the re

mains of her husband. She had formed a

vague idea, from some monkish tale, that he would be restored to life-and fed on a hope which, if realized, would have converted passive sorrow into active misery. She travelled by night, in order that no female eye might behold the coffin. On one occasion, having entered a monastery, as she supposed, upon finding it to be a nunnery, she hurried out into the open country, encamped, and during a storm, when the torches were extinguished, opened the coffin to verify the existence of the mouldering corpse-jealous as when, full of beauty, it was her life and joy—

A sad remembrance fondly kept.' She obstinately declined all state affairs, which were carried on in her name. She pined sullenly, and, never telling her grief, for fortyseven long years immured herself in a convent, dead to the world, watching from her window the coffin of her husband, which was purposely so placed in a chapel.*

From a Review of Prescott's History of Ferdi. nand and Isabella, in the Quarterly Review, No. exxvii., June, 1839.

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